


Chasing A Ghost (Sound of Footsteps Remix)

by Neverever



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bittersweet, Early in Canon, M/M, Mystery, Pining, Research, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 04:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17891855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neverever/pseuds/Neverever
Summary: Tony finds traces of his possible soulmate in archival records.





	Chasing A Ghost (Sound of Footsteps Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sineala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sineala/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Follow in Your Footsteps](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5204642) by [Sineala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sineala/pseuds/Sineala). 
  * In response to a prompt by [Sineala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sineala/pseuds/Sineala) in the [2019_Cap_Ironman_Remix_Madness](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/2019_Cap_Ironman_Remix_Madness) collection. 



> Written as a remix of Sineala's amazing and fantastic _Follow in Your Footsteps._ I adore this story, which is something really special. 
> 
> For the remix, I revisited Tony doing the research on his soulmate and set it a little later in Tony's life. I hope that you like the story.

Tony never forgot the elusive and mysterious Steve Rogers.

From the minute the signature appeared on his wrist, he studied the beautifully written name, the smooth curves and sharp lines spelling out in elegant lettering ‘Steve Rogers.’ Steve was out there somewhere and Tony was going to find him. He had someone and they had him and it was the most perfect thing in the world.

Once he’d made his mind up, Tony was ready to take on the world. Howard’s stinging disappointment in Tony’s match only redirected Tony’s efforts into more covert searches. He snatched stolen time to scour the public soulmate matching sites when he was at school. When he was older and smarter, he pried his way into closed DMV and records databases. Nothing matched up. No Steve Rogers with a Tony Stark emblazoned on his wrist appeared on his screens.

Tony had not given up the search, even after the disaster in Afghanistan. As he built the arc reactor and then the armor, he pondered his options. All he needed was one solid lead, a chink in the wall that he could look through, and he’d find Steve. 

But promising avenues turned into dead ends and possibilities dried up. Eventually Tony had nowhere else to check. His time was taken up with Stark Industries, then the Avengers. Spare time was rare and precious, and all he could do was scroll through all his done-and-dusted dead leads.

A chance meeting with the Stark Industries records staff reopened the door. Bambi had scheduled the meeting. “They’re planning some anniversary and want your input,” she said as she handed Tony his schedule.

The PR people were ecstatic at the records staff presentation. Tony nodded along at each point, following the flow of the meeting rather than the content. By the time the meeting had ended, he was absorbed in designing the new unibeam for the armor. He surfaced only to catch the tail-end of the conversation between one of the records people and a PR person.

“Here’s what I was able to find about your grandmother’s soulmate,” the records person said, handing over a folder and a drive. Jen, Tony thought her name was.

“You find soulmates?” he asked, startling the two women.

“I do historical research into soulmates, kind of a side business,” Jen said. “Genealogy, mostly.”

“Do you have time for a project?” Tony asked her.

~~~~~

“I usually find all kinds of information. If you’re not ready to hear bad news, then we should stop here,” Jen said.

They were sitting at a side workstation in Tony’s office. Tony had pulled up his old files with all the Steves he had found before and uploaded all the information into a beautiful complex database. Hot coffee and cookies were laid out on a nearby table. 

Tony had instinctively guessed long ago that the answers he was looking for would not lead anywhere easy. “I’ll take the risk.”

Jen took a deep breath, apparently a bit nervous about working with the boss on a hush hush, NDA-required project. “Where do you want to start?”

He waved his hand at the database on the screen and the beaten-up box of files on the side table. “This is everything I found years ago,” Tony told her. “From every soulmate, obituary, and military records database I could hack into.”

“And genealogy databases, too, I assume?”

“Everything.”

“Hmmm.” Jen opened the box and flipped through the files, all labeled neatly in Tony’s tight sharp print. “And you’ve located all possible Steve Rogerses? All the ones that could possibly overlap with your birth?”

“Whatever I could find. I’m all out of leads right now.”

Jen opened a browser on her own personal laptop with her genealogy databases. “Your research is quite good from what I can tell. But not all records are complete and thorough. Soulmates are often left off, especially in obituaries, if the soulmate names contradict family stories. People make up soulmates all the time.”

Tony snorted. “I see lots of stories with people who have famous, dead soulmates.”

“Yeah, there’s a good amount of fraud out there. I testified as an expert witness in a court case with a guy who scammed people with promises of finding famous soulmates. He got convicted on “Captain America” -- because Captain America’s identity is still classified, he just made up a lot of different names.”

“Takes all types.” Tony knew all about soulmate fraud the hard way after putting his name into a soulmate database. Family lawyers handled the resulting fallout.

Tony pointed at the military database on her browser. “I used that -- even hacked into the Pentagon’s own records. Nothing.”

“The armed forces moved years ago to computerized records. But anything before 1995 had to be scanned in.” 

“Still, if Steve Rogers was in a branch of the armed services, my name should be there in the database --”

“The practice of requiring soulmate names changed over the years -- since 1998 it’s been optional, for example. The rule was inconsistently applied during Vietnam and the rules even differ across the branches.” She smiled ruefully at Tony. “There was the St. Louis records fire in 1973 -- 80% of Army personnel files between 1912 and 1960 were lost.”

“Hmmm.”

“Let’s go through your database and I can add in what I’ve found so far.”

~~~~~

In the darkest moment of his life, when he woke up in the cave attached to a battery, Tony had hope. His right thumb fanned back and forth over the name on his left wrist as he worked on his escape plans. He had places to go and a mystery to solve. 

These days he was Iron Man with the Avengers and the fabulous CEO of Stark Industries, tirelessly working on innovative technology for the future. The Iron Man armor was the best of his technology, constantly upgraded, run on the amazing arc reactor in Tony’s chest, all sleek and modern design.

Now, Tony was wading through ghosts of the past. He was steadily re-working his way through his database, filling in blanks, removing names. His formerly huge data files had been reduced to a handful of living Steve Rogerses and a tremendous number of historical Steve Rogerses. Tony had nicknamed the Steves -- 1952 Steve, 1920 Steve, 1899 Steve. All possibilities, with no known soulmates.

Jen showed Tony examples of historical handwriting. “Soulmate names were different when people didn’t know how to write. But it’s clear that your soulmate was trained in cursive -- I’m waiting to get the results from a friends who is a handwriting expert.”

Tony arched an eyebrow. “Like my soulmate’s personality traits?” He drank his coffee and leaned back in his chair.

“More like whether or not it’s Palmer Method or Spencerian or another type entirely. We can narrow down the time period from that.”

“Great. My soulmate is a vampire.”

She laughed. “Or someone who’s changed their name. I’m working that angle now. Or he’s missing. Like I said, the records aren’t complete.”

~~~~~

After he got updates from Jen, Tony would add the research to the database. If the writing was Palmer Method, 1952 Steve might be the contender. He tapped the pen to his lips, as he carefully evaluated each Steve, intrigued by the few facts they had on each one. Who were they, all these Steves? What were they like? Would they have liked Tony?

“What about this one?” Tony had evaluated each possibility. He knew the entry by heart -- Steve Rogers, born 1920, death unknown. Born in New York City, Brooklyn (borough). Enlisted (Army) in 1940. He’d always wondered why they had so little on him, unlike the other historical Steves from the same time. A little blip in the records, a man who once existed and walked through New York, possibly on the same streets as Tony, but lost in the mists of time.

Jen pursed her lips. “I could try -- I didn’t find much more than what you already have. But I haven’t worked up the historical Steves since the likelihood of a match was low.”

Maybe it was the lure of the unknown or the promise offered by a teasing amount of information. They could still find more. 

Curious, Tony tried a quick search in the New York Times online archives. He sorted through all the news articles, dismissing the mentions of Steves that they had already rejected. Then he found a small article from November 1937 about a Steve Rogers winning an art contest with the grand prize of a year’s tuition at Pratt Institute. 

On that slender piece of information, Jen confirmed that Steve attended Pratt Institute for one year, from 1937 to 1938. “Pratt didn’t have much on him -- just his transcript. And I’m sending you copies of a newspaper article on Steve and the contest.” Jen had found the newspaper in the Brooklyn Historical Society -- including a picture of 1920 Steve. Tall and skinny, Steve stood awkwardly next to his winning picture of the New York City skyline. 

From the transcript, Jen found 1920 Steve’s family -- a Sarah Rogers who died in 1936 and Joseph Rogers who died in 1924. There were no obituries except for a brief mention of Sarah’s passing in a Brooklyn newspaper and there was no sign of a sibling or any other family. The Brooklyn Historical Society had barely anything on the Rogers family, and the church records only had a mention of Steve’s birth, baptism and confirmation and Sarah’s funeral. “Steve was born here -- no local records of his parents’ marriage points to them being immigrants.” Any other information dried up after she located the immigration records of Joseph and Sarah Rogers from Ireland. 

Tony had propped up a print of Steve, art contest winner. Not a glimpse of the soulmate name was visible, as Steve’s right wrist was hidden behind his back and his left one obscured. He wondered about the man in the photo, what had happened to him, why he couldn’t have stayed at Pratt. Something about the way he stood -- confident, proud, a shining moment in a short life -- intrigued Tony. Tony didn’t like how skinny Steve was. There was a story there not captured in the short newspaper story.

1920 Steve could still be alive out there in some retirement community, with a doting family and a career in art behind him. Happy and fulfilled, even if he hadn’t found his soulmate. Did he draw pictures of his soulmate in quiet moments as he contemplated the name on his wrist? Was it Tony’s name?

He could sense that Jen didn’t think 1920 Steve was a promising lead. But she plugged away and dug up a few more tantalizing bits of information -- 1920 Steve had worked from 1938 to 1940 as a WPA artist, until he enlisted in the Army, and his mother had been a public health nurse working for the city until her death from tuberculosis. She had copies of a birth certificate for 1920 Steve, who had been born underweight. 

But nothing after 1940. That bothered Tony. “What about that enlistment?”

“I’ll try. But remember -- 1973 records fire.”

Tony had a mess of things on his hands for the next couple of months, since he was now involved with the Avengers, and suffering through a lot of growing pains with them. 

It was a few months before he had a chance to sit down with Jen. They had eliminated several more possibilities. Tony still found himself drawn to 1920 Steve and the look in his eyes in the photo. 

Jen admitted to him, “I haven’t found anything about 1920 Steve after 1940. Not even a death date.”

“He enlisted. There has to be something.”

“But that only means he enlisted. We don’t know if he passed Basic Training, we don’t know if he was sent to Europe or another theatre. He could have served stateside too.”

“He’s our best option out of the twenty-nine names left.” Tony traced a figure over the print. 1920 Steve didn’t look like a guy who gave up easily.

“I’ll keep digging,” she promised. “I know some archivists who specialize in military records.”

~~~~~

Tony could hear Jen’s excitement when she called. “I have something big. Ever hear of the Howling Commandos? Jim Morita?”

Of course he had, given his father’s fascination with Captain America. “Yeah. I know who Morita was.”

“According to his obit, he worked with SHIELD after the war -- then retired and moved back to San Francisco to be with family. He did an oral history with the local historical society shortly before he passed.”

“And?”

“He mentioned a Steve Rogers.”

“What?”

“I’ll send you the download of the transcript. It turned up in one of my searches for Steve’s name.”

It turned out the interviewer was one of Morita’s granddaughters. He’d apparently forgotten she was recording the interview. The part that Steve was mentioned came up when Morita talked about downtime in camp.

_Jim Morita: “In October 44 we were stuck in camp waiting for the next mission. We were strung out -- I hadn’t had leave for months. Steve kept our spirits up.”_

_Donna Morita (interviewer): “Steve? Was he one of the commandos?”_

_Jim: “Steve Rogers. No, he wasn’t -- he was -- heh heh -- that’s a different story. We were in camp and Happy Sawyer was getting itchy about the Germans ...”_

Tony said, “Sounds like that could be 1920 Steve.”

“1920 Steve is the only unaccounted-for Steve that could have served in WWII. Do you know anything about Dino Manelli?”

“Wasn’t he a singer? Like Frank Sinatra?” Tony racked his brain -- he thought he’d seen a record or two by Manelli in his mother’s collection.

“And a Howling Commando. He published a memoir in 1981. A friend sent me a pdf of a draft of the memoirs in his publisher’s papers at Empire State. In the draft Manelli mentions working with a Steve Rogers when he was a Howling Commando. The references were removed before publication -- there was a note from the editor about being contacted by the government.”

That’s where they were with the last mention of what could be 1920 Steve in 1944. Jen’s next step was to file a records request with NARA. “They might have his pay records -- and if we’re lucky, medical records. Maybe a medal or something.”

“So all we have for post-1940s 1920 Steve is a couple of mentions in oral histories.”

“If 1920 Steve is your soulmate, he had to have lived until the ‘90s at least, Tony, long enough for you to be born. There’s a lot of ways he could have disappeared out of the historical record.”

The first request Jen filed hit paydirt. NARA sent back scans of 1920 Steve’s enlistment papers. The papers had been located in a small collection of personnel records in Camp Lehigh when NARA tried to piece together the records lost in the fire. 

It was definitely 1920 Steve. Six foot, 2 inches tall, 120 pounds, health issues out the wazoo -- measles, mumps, scarlet fever, pneumonia, nervous condition. No living relatives, high school graduate, one year college. The soulmate line was left blank. Actually a few other identifying lines were left blank too -- like address and next of kin.

Jen also got a copies of pay records from 1940. Oddly, Steve had enlisted as a private, but the last pay record indicated a promotion to captain. She sent other documents to Tony -- all of them redacted. 

He poured over the records, bothered by the inconsistencies in the pre-1940 and the post-1940 records. Something had happened to 1920 Steve around his enlistment time. He went from 4-F to serving in a special ops unit. 

“This is getting ridiculous,” Tony announced to her. “I’m going to file a FOIA request. And if that doesn’t work, I’m going to sue.”

~~~~~

Tony barely knew anything about 1920 Steve, but he was unraveling the mystery with each new discovery. 1920 Steve cut a romantic figure as an artist in pre-war New York. Tony marveled at the people he would have known and met, the city he would have known. 

Tony had found a small collection of magazine illustrations and comics attributed to Steve Rogers in the MET archives. They sent Tony copies of what little they had on the talented, but forgotten Rogers, including a scan of a group photograph of WPA artists with Steve partially hidden in the back row. Tony smiled fondly at Steve in his worn trenchcoat and hat. He would have been handsome with a smile on his face and a little more weight on his frame. 

Then Tony found a photo of Steve at a protest against American Nazis in 1939 in a collection at Empire State. This Steve was angry and shouting, his face bruised. Another piece of the puzzle. How did 1920 Steve get there? Is that why he enlisted? Not that Tony could fault a man for hating Nazis. He was more than a little in love with the angry, awkward artist.

“Tony, you have a call,” Bambi said as she transferred a call to Tony’s rarely used office phone.

“So you’re the one looking for Steve Rogers,” a low, baritone voice said over the line.

“Who is this?”

“Nick Fury. If you want information, meet me at the National History of American History --”

“In D.C.?”

“Yeah. I’ll have my secretary contact your secretary. In the meantime, call off your researchers.”

~~~~~

All Tony had to go on was that he was meeting a Nick Fury in the LeRoy Neiman Jazz Cafe at 11 am. Somehow he expected a more undercover meeting on a secret military base somewhere. He scanned the cafe looking for a person that might be his date.

“I guess you’re Fury,” Tony asked the grizzled man sitting a corner table. He’d worked with all the military branches, NSA and CIA. Fury looked like one of them.

Fury gave him a long, appraising look. “Tony Stark.”

“Should I get lunch?” Tony asked.

“What do you want? I’ll have someone fetch it for you.” That’s when Tony noticed the men and women in dark suits stationed around the cafeteria.

“I can get my own tray. What’s this about?”

“Show me your wrist and then we’ll talk.”

Tony undid the cufflink and rolled up the sleeve to show Fury his soulmate name. Fury drew in a sharp breath. He traced the name with his finger before dropping Tony’s arm. “Yeah. That’s the bastard’s signature all right.”

“Whose?”

“Steve’s. You want that lunch now?”

~~~~~

Of course, Fury explained nothing to Tony as Tony struggled to choke down his lunch. Fury leisurely picked through his salad, making comments about the weather. Tony could tell that Fury was measuring him, making judgments and assumptions, weighing his value. “Let’s get this show on the road,” Fury muttered at last.

They left the cafe and walked back into the exhibit spaces, landing in front of a large exhibit case full of Captain America memorabilia. Tony scanned the items and photos and the neat little informative cards. He nodded at a couple of staffers hovering around the corner. “They look unhappy.”

“Yeah. People get anxious when you mess with their work. And we’re messing with their work in a big way.”

“Right.” Tony took a sidelong look at Fury’s impassive face.

Fury grumbled, “A bunch of historians have petitioned the President about declassifying Captain America.”

“And you don’t want that?”

“Nah. No one’s ready for the truth. I find that people say they want the truth, but they really want the legend, the myth, reality with filters on.”

Tony studied the exhibit photos, instinctively looking at Captain America’s wrist to see if he could see any writing. It has been a mystery who his soulmate was since WWII. “I don’t see why I’m here to talk about declassifying Captain America’s identity.” 

“I’m efficient -- gonna get a few birds with one stone today.” Fury fussed with his hands, finally shoving them in his pockets. “Any of that familiar?”

“No.”

“That’s your dad’s collection. He used to be the biggest collection of Captain America memorabilia -- he’d buy anything, sight unseen, at any price. He got out of it when you were a kid, gave all of his collection to the Smithsonian.”

“You brought me here to see Howard’s old hobby?”

“No. I’m here to find out why some guy has a dead guy’s name on his wrist.”

Tony’s head sharply turned away from the exhibit as Fury’s words registered. “Excuse me?”

But Fury was looking at the exhibit and ignoring Tony. “After all these years, I still want to protect him. Best friend a person could ever have. Come on.”

Fury took Tony down the hallway and staircases to offices and work areas buried underneath the exhibit rooms. They walked past a room with tables filled with Captain America-related memorabilia, set out like an exhibit. They finally reached a windowless conference room. 

By now, Tony was curious and annoyed and not in a frame of mind to indulge Fury in whatever weirdness he was up to. He sat down at the table, next to a WWII ammo box and a collection of beige folders. Tony schooled his face so he wasn’t glaring at Fury. 

“Maybe this would have been easier when you were a clueless kid. You got real close when you were 20 when you hacked into the Pentagon databases. You just didn’t know what you were looking at. Nearly arrested you then. But your dad was a powerful guy and you weren’t ready for the truth.”

Fury grabbed one of the folders and pulled out papers. “For the life of me I don’t know where to start. So that’s the real soulmate name on your wrist? I did some research on you, too -- no two reports can agree on your soulmate’s name.”

Tony shrugged. “Common thing for famous people. Cuts down on the fraud.” 

Fury pushed the papers towards Tony. “Look at the signature -- seem familiar?”

Warily, Tony picked up the sheets, which turned out to be enlistment papers, promotion letters and other Army personnel forms. And the same ‘Steve Rogers’ like the one on his wrist written on every single one. Tony devoured them, his heart falling each time he noted the dates -- 1940, 1943, 1945. He touched the name on his wrist, as he always did when he thought of him. 

“You don’t have to answer, kid. The look on your face tells me all that I need to know. And yeah, Rogers was Captain America -- that’s still classified information. Everything you’re going to see is classified -- top secret classified.”

Tony’s breathing was harsh in his ears. He’d found his soulmate after all these years, and he was Captain America. 

Fury leaned over to rifle through the folders. He slid a photo over to Tony. “That’s the only one that still exists of Steve’s soulmate name.”

Tony picked up the photo. It was 1920 Steve, tall and skinny, concave chest, no muscle on his stick thin arms -- all familiar to Tony. And on his wrist was Tony’s name in his sharp and tidy writing, just like he had written his name that morning on a contract. He’d recognize it anywhere. 

Shocked, he choked out, “How --?”

“Long story. Short version -- Steve Rogers volunteered to be part of an experiment to create super soldiers and he became Captain America.”

“Okay. Right.” The ghost he’d been chasing all these years. 1920 Steve had his name. His Steve. Captain America had his name.

Fury patted the folders on the table. “These are all his records -- like I said, they’re top secret. Photos, medical records, reports, the whole nine yards.” He opened the ammo box. “This is a collection of Rogers’ personal belongings that somehow ended up with the files.”

Tony opened a folder to look at the photos. Steve in camp, Steve drawing a picture, reading a book in one, joking around with the Commandos in another. It was overwhelming, almost like he was discovering his own forgotten past.

“He loved you,” Fury said, his voice softening. “He’d talk about you all the time, what he was going to do after the war -- find you, settle down, build a life, all that silly stuff we talked about when we weren’t getting shot at. It wasn’t easy -- the brass always worried that Steve’s soulmate would blow his cover since he was supposed to be this big government secret. The publicity boys would have preferred a Tanya Stark or some other nonsense like that -- the girl next-door to match the boy in red, white and blue.”

Fury sighed, his shoulders lifting and falling. “I want you to know — if you take anything away from this, Stark — Steve didn’t give a tinker’s damn what anyone ever thought of him and he wanted more than anything to find his soulmate. I’ve been carrying around this letter he wanted you to have, ya know, in case he didn’t make it back.”

“What happened to him?”

“Frappin’ stupid mission -- babysit this plane and don’t let Zemo steal it. Any idiot could have done it. Anyway -- take all the time you want, kiddo.”

~~~~~

Tony had been loved completely and utterly by a man who had never set eyes on him and had died long before Tony had been born. Who was proud of Tony and had every confidence that they would meet and build an amazing life together. And Steve didn’t care who knew.

He carefully put the files back together and slid the letter into the envelope. The boy left behind at home, mourning the lost hero. 

As he emerged from the room, he wiped the tears from his eyes, the letter burning in his hand. “I don’t understand -- you’re not supposed to be matched --”

Fury frowned. “I’ve been around long enough to see just about everything. Ain’t nobody who understands the soulmate thing. Lots of junk science out there. All we know is that we get a soulmate assigned to us -- it’s up to us to figure out what to do with that information. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it - it’s a shit sandwich for you and Steve and that’s all that it is.”

“You knew him?” Tony asked numbly. Nothing was going to surprise him now.

“I’m well preserved for my age. We got some business to sort out. A bunch of historians are suing to find out Cap’s identity. I figure you get a say in this. We tell the world that Captain America is Steve Rogers and it’s going to be everywhere he’s your soulmate.”

Steve would have kissed Tony in Times Square on V-E day in front of photographers and not cared if the photo was all over the papers. Tony couldn’t do anything less.

“Give my PR people a few days to prepare a press release.” Although, honestly, Tony wasn’t up for reading a thousand headlines about Steve’s soulmate just yet.

“Yeah. Yeah.”

Tony asked for scans of every single photograph and document they had. He took the letter and the ammo box. As for other stuff, he wasn’t up for reviewing and deciding. And it was all meaningless anyway if he couldn’t have Steve. Tony had been loved. Would be loved now if Steve was around.

As Tony left, Fury gripped his shoulder. “Go make him proud, kid.”


End file.
